


The Shadows and the Bright Spaces

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seunghyun and Jiyong have never been easy, but they have always made sense. Even when they fall apart and have to pick up the pieces again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadows and the Bright Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> NuThang party fic. It's a slight AU, in that Big Bang doesn't exist but Jiyong is still involved in the music biz. It's not hugely important, but I thought I'd mention it.

 

Buoyant peals of drunken laughter filtered through the heavy door of Seungho's apartment as I loitered in the hallway. I'd been there for exactly seven minutes and twenty-three seconds and I still couldn't bring myself to knock. It would have been easier if not for the knowledge that somewhere on the other side of this wall, probably tucked away in the corner smoking a cigarette and looking gorgeous while doing it, was the one person I feared seeing most.  _Jiyong_. More than a month had passed since our last blow-out and we'd decided to take a break. To see if we could step away and still find the need to step forward again. The thing was, I was always ready to step forward as long as he was the one standing in front of me. Three years together and the asshole hadn't figured that out yet. I heaved a slow sigh, fingers curling into a fist as I tipped forward and rapped my knuckles against the wood before I could psyche myself out a second time. The door whipped open a moment later, revealing a tipsy Seungho in all his fabulously costumed glory.

 

I snorted, taking in the gold, sequined mini-dress that hugged his skinny-ass thighs. The fat, diamond encrusted choker around his long neck and the chin-length wig the color of blood. A thick line of silver intersected the center of his bottom lip, complimented by shimmering silver eye-shadow and the sharpness of his eyebrows. He grinned at me, but the happy expression fell as soon as those heavily inked eyes gave me a thorough once-over.

 

“You're obviously going in for the kill tonight, Seunghyun.”

 

His gaze swept over me again, one of his razor sharp brows quirking, no doubt, at the tight black v-neck I was wearing underneath my leather jacket. I felt my face heat.

 

“No one said anything about murder.”

 

Though I wouldn't deny that my choice of attire tonight was because I possessed an ulterior motive.

 

“Honey, there isn't a single person in this apartment who is going to survive after gazing upon your fine ass for more than thirty seconds,” he drawled, leaning against the door with his hip cocked. “Especially you know who.”

 

Glaring at him, I ran a nervous hand through my dark, ruffled hair.

 

“Would you stop stroking my ego and let me in already.”

 

“Is that an obscenely expensive bottle of wine tucked under your arm?”

 

“Worth more than your dress.”

 

Seungho stepped aside, sweeping his elegant fingers out to welcome me.

 

“Then by all means, Mr. Choi.”

 

“Tacky prick,” I grumbled, smirking.

 

He kissed me on the cheek and stole the wine from my grasp, sashaying bare-foot through the living room and disappearing into the kitchen. I rubbed away the smudge of silver on my skin and shrugged my jacket off, folding it over my arm and smiling when Soohyuk waved at me from his spot on the couch next to Kyungil. The rail-thin model rose to give me a hug, limbs always alarmingly feline in their grace and forever encased in black.

 

“It's good to see you, hyung,” he murmured into my ear, palms flat on my back. “You need to stop being such a stranger.”

 

“You know why I've made myself scarce.” I squeezed him slightly and then withdrew.

 

“And it's so hard to pick up your fucking phone and call me once in a while?” Soohyuk's lips quirked at the corners and I ducked my head.

 

“It's better this way.” I sighed, shifting my weight in mild discomfort.

 

“Yeah, because being a reclusive shithead is  _so_  hard for you,” Kyungil interjected from his sprawl on the cushions, half-empty beer clutched in his fingers, the other hand shoved in the pocket of his hoodie.

 

“Thank you, Kyungil.” I rolled my eyes, moving to drape my leather jacket over the back of the couch. “I missed you too.”

 

“I'm just putting it out there.” He huffed and took a swig from his bottle.

 

“Seunghyun, you look like Marlon Brando and Morrissey had a really hot Korean baby,” Kim appeared at my side, long hair tied in a messy knot at the base of her neck, contrasting with the sleek cocktail dress hanging from her slender body.

 

I barked out a laugh, pulling my cigarettes from my back pocket and tapping one from the soft-pack. I tucked the filter between my teeth and Soohyuk offered me a lighter before I could even ask.  _Only the best of friends_. I shook my head, exhaling my mouthful of smoke before leaning over to press my lips to Kim's cheek. She blushed and nudged me with her shoulder, flopping down on the cushions beside Kyungil and picking up the tail-end of a conversation I had apparently missed before I got there. I turned to Soohyuk and he gave me a knowing look. He was well aware of what my next question was going to be so I stayed silent and waited. He folded his arms over his chest.

 

“He's in the kitchen with Hyunjung and Seungho. They've been talking about inane bullshit for the last hour. I'm about 99.9% certain Hyunjung's already wasted, which bodes well.”

 

“And how is he?” I couldn't meet his gaze anymore, staring at the heavy boots on my feet instead.

 

Soohyuk's hand found my shoulder, and I glanced up at him, flicking my ash into the tray on the coffee table.

 

“Why don't you ask him yourself?”

 

“Because I'm not nearly intoxicated enough for that. Not yet.”

 

“Well just don't overdo it. I know you don't remember what happened last time, but I do,” he chuckled. “We all do.”

 

“You're a real pal for bringing that up.”

 

“Hey, I'm only trying to help you maintain some dignity here.” Soohyuk held his hands up, smirking.

 

“Right, because you care so much about my fucking dignity. In about twenty minutes you're gonna be plying me with shots of tequila for the sole purpose of transforming me into your personal entertainment for the evening.”

 

He laughed, angles of his face softening with his genuine amusement. There was a bloom of warmth that settled in the spaces between my ribs at the sight. I'd missed this, the laughing. Missed the smiling and the joking and the bitchy comments. Missed my friends. Every time Jiyong and I fought it was like dividing up possessions after a divorce. Only the possessions were people. I tended to cut myself off entirely because it was less complicated and it allowed Ji his space. As for me, I had plenty of space up in the isolated tower of my loft apartment far, far away from his world. And what used to be my world. Though I was finding it harder and harder to retrace my steps, to pick up the crumbs I'd left behind. More than once Soohyuk had asked me why I didn't make a clean break and walk away from this mess entirely. Save myself the heartache. I'd told him I was hard-wired to love Jiyong and that there would never be such a thing as a “clean break”. Because if the day ever came that Jiyong didn't want me anymore, I would still be his. A strange emotion had clouded Soohyuk's face after I'd said that and I remembered thinking that he would probably never understand what existed between Jiyong and myself. Not really. Even though he knew both of us so well. Or thought he did, at least.

 

I bent down to put my cigarette out, leaving the crumpled filter in the ashtray, and wondered if I'd ever work up the courage to talk to Ji tonight. The addition of alcohol made things a little less...focused. The rough edges not so rough. But tongues were usually made sharp and unforgiving. I almost didn't care if we resolved anything. I just wanted to hear his voice.

 

As if on cue, a burst of collective laughter exploded in the kitchen behind me. I could pick out the brightness of Jiyong's tenor without trying and it sent a jolt of longing straight to the center of my heart. That familiar, painful throb that reminded me of how many nights I'd slept on my couch because I couldn't survive sleeping in the bed if he wasn't there. Perhaps I'd been too quick in wishing for things I wasn't ready to deal with. Soohyuk had turned to speak to Kim and I seized the opportunity to escape, intent on sequestering myself on the balcony to steal a few more minutes of solitude. I made it all of two steps when Seungho burst from the kitchen and shoved a beer into my hand.

 

“Drink up, sweetheart. It'll only help.”

 

There was a loud knock on the door and he pinched my cheek with a wink before gliding across the floor to greet his new guests. I only heard snippets of shrieked hellos, shutting the sliding glass door of the balcony with a dull thunk. The cooler air felt like a balm over the skin of my arms, hairs raising slightly in the early Spring chill. I downed a large gulp of beer and propped my elbows on the railing, listening to the muted chaos inside and the faint sounds of Seoul humming its nightly refrain. I lit another cigarette and slumped forward, letting my head fall. As nice as it was to see everyone, I was starting to regret leaving my apartment. Surely Seungho had already told Jiyong that I was here. And surely his response had been nothing short of caustic. I inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in my lungs to allow the burn a moment to articulate itself before breathing out. Jiyong truly enjoyed the act of wallowing in his tightly wound anger. Enjoyed the simmering indignation in his gut. Sometimes, I believed he got off on hating me more than he took pleasure in loving me. And maybe that was why we pushed against each other so much, seeing how long we could hang on to the edge before plummeting. He was so mercurial by nature, volatile and unpredictable, but I never wanted to change him. I just wanted him to stay.

 

Turning, I pressed my back into cold, sharp metal and watched the clusters of party-goers grow and mutate as more and more people arrived. More and more faces I failed to recognize, all done up in vibrant hues and expensive threads. Though it would be less troublesome to dodge interacting with Jiyong if I could hide myself in the throng. I finished the rest of my beer, leaving the empty glass bottle on the small patio table. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I caught a flash of white-blonde hair in my periphery, the movement claiming my attention.

 

But it wasn't entirely blonde, upon closer inspection. Artfully disheveled black and white; the juxtaposition of light and dark more fitting than he probably realized. Jiyong changed the color of his hair so frequently I never knew what to expect anymore. And I nearly resented him for always managing to be so unwavering in his beauty, no matter how outlandish or subdued his appearance. I watched him through the glass, standing there in the living room, deep in conversation with Soohyuk. A glass of whiskey poised in perfect fingers, the sleeves of his soft, gray t-shirt rolled shorter to show off tanned arms. Fitted red pants, exposed ankles, silver rings and twining bracelets. Jiyong tilted his head to the side, lips splitting into an effortless grin in response to words I couldn't hear. His eyes glittered. Crinkling crescents. I swallowed a pained sigh, tossing my cigarette onto the street below. It was never going to be easy. A nervous flutter occupied the hollow of my stomach and I slipped back inside, not quite sure how prepared I was to find out how the rest of the night unfolded.

 

*

 

Time dissolved, the passing of minutes alternating between slow-motion and fast-forward depending on how much alcohol had just been deposited down my throat. The constant pulse of loud music made everything sort of strange. Sort of permanently fuzzy. It had been a while since I'd had the unique experience of being subjected to so much noise and so much social interaction. Names and annotated histories were dropped and then forgotten as soon as a new face swam in front of me. It made me dizzy. And Soohyuk was always there to press another shot glass into my hand to make the dizziness turn into a dream and set me afloat. I was leaning against the wall in the living room, cigarette caught between lazy digits and a glass of something toxic gripped in the other hand. There were people dancing. Laughing and talking over each other so loudly it all melded into a discordant wall of sound. There were people making out at every turn, tongues invading lips. And probably other orifices in the darkened seclusion of Seungho's spare bedroom. Several times, the dense aroma of pot smoke intermingled with the countless cigarettes poised in self-important fingers. Jiyong had yet to acknowledge my existence, which I had anticipated. But still I watched him navigate his way through the party, flitting from one pretty face to the next. He knew I would see the way he leaned too close to murmur into someone's ear. The way his hand would alight on a curved hip or the small of a back as he lured them all in with his honey trap of a mouth. With his gentle, boyish charm. He was irresistible to no one. I tried, helplessly, to prevent the acrid taste of jealousy from clinging to the back of my throat.

 

Several shots of tequila later, I had achieved a dangerous level of intoxication. The kind that made me reckless and stupid. I vaguely remembered Seungho making a comment about not dancing on the coffee table and the subsequent howl of Soohyuk's amusement. I think I flipped both of them off, which only made Soohyuk laugh harder.

 

“You think you're so funny,” I grumbled, swallowing the last of my vile mystery drink with a pronounced grimace.

 

“I'm not, actually, but you certainly are.”

 

“How many shots have you given me? I don't feel like a real person.” The room lurched and I pinched the bridge of my nose.

 

“Apparently not enough, because you're still coherent and nothing's been damaged.” He snickered. “Yet.”

 

“You're horrible.”

 

“And you love me for it.” Soohyuk grinned broadly, draping an arm across my shoulders and leaning into me, heavy and loose.

 

On instinct, I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer. The physical press of another body was something I had missed as well. It was amazing how much physical touch actually made a difference. Tactile confirmation that you were still alive. Because there had definitely been a few instances in the last month where I hadn't been sure. I squeezed Soohyuk's side gently and he brought a hand to my face, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb. There was a glaze over his eyes from the alcohol, but underneath that was a pitiful sort of melancholy and I had to avert my gaze. I didn't need to see that.

 

“Why do you do this to yourself?” He asked quietly.

 

“You already know the answer to that question, Soohyuk,” I replied even more quietly.

 

“He doesn't deserve you.” He brushed his lips against my temple.

 

I sighed, turning my head to look at him, mouth pressed into a hard line. I hated that this was even a necessary topic of conversation. That our friends were starting to take sides. Though Jiyong was bringing that upon himself without any help from me.

 

“Maybe not. But he has to figure that out for himself.”

 

We stared at each other for a long moment, Soohyuk's eyes never losing their sadness, and it made the ache in my heart a thousand times more poignant. I abandoned him too often and he never wavered. I ignored his calls and his attempts to draw me out and yet he never gave up. If anything  _I_  didn't deserve  _him._  Or any of them, honestly. He pecked me softly on the mouth, a brief reassuring kiss. Smiling slightly, I swayed and tightened my hold around his narrow hips.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“For what?” His brows furrowed.

 

“For putting up with my bullshit.”  _For putting up with me in general._

 

“We all love you, hyung. It's not a question of endurance.” Soohyuk's lips twisted in a wry smirk.

 

I huffed, throat tightening from the immensity of my affection and my gratitude. The drunkenness wasn't helping though, I was sure. Finally, the regret I'd admitted to earlier left me in a single, heady rush and the room stopped spinning.

 

“Still.” I breathed deep, clearing a hidden weight from my lungs. “Thanks.”

 

“You're welcome, Seunghyun.” His fondness bled into my bones and I had never been more thankful for his existence.

 

It was only natural, as if he knew there was a moment to be destroyed, that Hyunjung crashed through the room then, dressed in a frilly tank-top and cut-off shorts with an emerald green feather boa coiled around his neck. He was shouting along to the bubbly pop song spewing from the speakers at the top of his lungs as he jumped around like an idiot. Soohyuk and I both groaned in tandem, which only lead to hysterical laughter and we clung to each other, doubled over under the weight of our shared mirth.

 

“Another shot?” Soohyuk gasped, face lit up and cheeks flushed.

 

“Another shot.” I nodded and we stumbled into the kitchen together. “I need to erase the image of Hyunjung's ass hanging out of those jeans from my memory.”

 

As soon as the words finished tumbling from my mouth, I ended up colliding with another person leaving the kitchen as I was entering. Only it wasn't just another person; one of the nameless, forgotten faces. It was the only face that mattered. My fingers curled around Jiyong's thin arms to steady myself, legs a bit wobbly, head a bit light. And getting lighter with every second that I gazed into his eyes and he didn't look away. That he didn't shrug my hands off and push past me. My chest tightened, heart frantically wishing it had some way to flee. Some way to distance itself instead of hammering against my the back of my ribs as if terrified of what would happen next. Jiyong's lovely brown eyes were not cold or closed off. They were careful, only letting a fraction of his own fear shine through. I clamped down on the desperate need to envelop him in my arms, fingers automatically sinking deeper into his warm skin. Before I could think to speak, not that I would even know what to say, Jiyong's eyes fell and he inhaled sharply.

 

“Can we talk?” He said, flat and carefully controlled.

 

Everything was always so careful.

 

“Yeah.”

 

I studied the knotted curves of his eyebrows, the thick sweep of his lowered lashes. The familiar way he abused the flesh of his bottom lip under sharp teeth.

 

“Not here.” He shook his head, flicking his eyes up to stare into the empty space above my shoulder. “Your place.”

 

I nodded, fingers uncurling gradually. The nervous flutter in my stomach returned full force and I glanced at Soohyuk where he was leaning next to the sink. He shooed me out of the kitchen with a lazy wave of his hand.

 

“Are you sure you're okay to drive?” I asked, yanking my jacket from underneath the mountain of coats.

 

“Don't start.” Jiyong's voice was tired, like he was repeating the lines from a script we'd rehearsed a thousand times over.

 

“It was a simple question,” I murmured.

 

“I'm fine. I'll be downstairs if you want to say goodbye.”

 

Jiyong pivoted on his heel, head bowed, and let himself out through the front door before I could respond. I raked my hands through my hair, attempting to calm myself and failing miserably. It would take me a while to find everyone amid the chaos, but I was happy to postpone the inevitable for a little while longer. No matter how many times we did this, I never got used to it. The anticipation and the fear. Even equipped with the formula we always seemed to follow, it was the harrowing process of reaching the other side that caused the most damage. I knew, because Jiyong had requested to talk, that it meant he was ready to take that step forward again. But getting him to actually take it was easier said than done. Slipping my jacket on, I sought out Kyungil, Kim, and Seungho to say my farewells.

 

“So soon, Hyunnie?” Seungho frowned, his silver eyeshadow having lost some of its luster over the course of the night.

 

“Jiyong's waiting downstairs,” I muttered, shoving my hands in my pockets.

 

“ _Oh_.” His lips pursed around the sound and he smoothed down the front of his dress. “Well then.”

 

“Sorry I can't stick around.”

 

“I will only forgive you if you promise not to let that boy walk all over you again.” He crossed his arms.

 

I rolled my eyes. It never changed, just repeated over and over again but in a different key. Variations on a theme.

 

“Jiyong does-”

 

“No, you shut the hell up and listen Seunghyun.” Seungho exhaled harshly through his nostrils. “I may love both of you, but he's treading on thin ice. I'm tired of this shit.”

 

“ _You're_  tired of this shit?” I choked out a sardonic laugh.

 

“Fuck you, you know what I meant.” He scowled and gathered me up in his arms, holding me tightly for several drawn out beats.

 

I fought another surge of sentimentality and ignored the prickling burn of tears. They were all bastards.

 

“I'll call you tomorrow.”

 

“Wouldn't that be a miracle.” His sarcasm was so thick I could almost taste it.

 

“Stuff it, Seungho.” I zipped up my jacket, tugging anxiously on the sleeves.

 

“Actually, don't call me. Let me delude myself into believing that you two are too busy fucking each other's brains out to bother with anything else.”

 

An unexpectedly bright burst of amusement was ripped from my lungs and I framed his face with my hands.

 

“We can only pray.”

 

Seungho snorted and slapped my hands away, shoving me towards the door.

 

“Get the fuck out of my sight,” he shouted.

 

Smirking, I gave him a final salute and vanished into the hallway, the sudden lack of sensory overload making me woozy in the muted cavern of the stairwell. I paused, resting the heel of my palm on the bannister to regain some equilibrium. Though I would most likely be thrown off balance again as soon as I made it out to the car. The ragged whisper of my breath echoed louder in my ears than it did against the walls and I steeled myself for what was to come.

 

A particularly loud cackle floated through the door of Seungho's apartment, shaking the hesitance from my muscles, and I bounded down the stairs without another thought.

 

*

 

The drive back to my place was silent, though we were already exchanging words in our heads. Already fighting before we'd moved our lips. The inevitable torrential downpour of barbed insults and past offenses hurled back and forth like clever bullets. It had been quite a while since Jiyong and I had shared the same confined space and the desire to reach over and take his hand was suffocated by the physical force of his frustration. I imagined most of that frustration was directed at himself, though it was hard to tell when he'd hardly even looked at me for more than a few seconds. I tried to read the cues in his body language, but he was strung so tight that all I could translate was the anger and the fear as it rolled off of him in weighted currents. Fear of what, I didn't know. Jiyong had never been very adept at communicating what he was feeling. And what he did communicate, he saved for his music, which left me with almost nothing. The scraps and the dredges. This is where my own anger came from. He never gave enough of himself, never shared the whole of who he was and yet I would never cease my frantic scramble to collect whatever pieces he scattered at his feet. It was pathetic, I knew that. But I couldn't give up on hoping that he would stop running.

 

Jiyong parked his car and we walked into my building. He stepped inside the freight elevator, receding into the corner with his shoulders hunched. I pushed the metal gate shut and the large box made its slow crawl to the top floor, squealing ominously as it always had. I kept my back turned, not needing to see his face to know that he was staring despondently at the ground. I was surprised when he cleared his throat though, the soft strains of his voice carrying over the noise of our ascent.

 

“How's work?” Jiyong sounded bored by his own question and I wondered why he'd bothered asking at all.

 

“Work is fine. I won't trouble you with the thrilling details.”

 

“I'm not allowed to ask about your life?”

 

“You can ask, but I know that you don't care.” I sighed. “You're wasting your breath.”

 

And so it started. The slow build to madness. We were too talented at crawling underneath each other's skin. Jiyong emitted something that resembled a laugh, but it lacked shape. It was more a wordless expression of derision than anything.

 

“That's right, I should save it for later when I have to defend myself against your scathing criticisms and diatribes.”

 

“You're the one that wanted to talk, Jiyong. I can only hope that you actually have something to say.”

 

The elevator whined to a halt and I slid the gate open, letting him exit first before closing it again. He sauntered through the open space, legs carrying him over wooden floorboards that he had tread innumerable times before. They groaned in greeting and he lowered himself onto the couch. I shed my jacket and unlaced my boots, leaving them in the middle of the entryway, and went to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water.

 

“So...” I began, leaning into the island counter as I gazed at the delicate lines of his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your peerless company?”

 

“Seunghyun, stop it.” Jiyong narrowed his eyes.

 

I laughed. Oh, this would be most interesting.

 

“No. Not until you give me a reason.” My lips closed around the edge of the glass and I swallowed the cool water, but it did nothing to pacify me.

 

“I've given you plenty of reasons.”

 

“And yet none of them make sense.”

 

I saw Jiyong's jaw clench and his nostrils flared ever so slightly. He hated when I didn't play along.

 

“If you're going to be like this, then I'd be happy to leave,” he uttered sharply.

 

“Why are you here, Jiyong?”

 

I always pushed and pushed and pushed when all I really wanted to do was consume him with my lips and my tongue. To press him into the sheets and worship him with my fingers, pulling broken whimpers and eager sighs from the depths of his lungs. But for some reason I felt justified every time I twisted the knife. Even though it made me no better than Jiyong. We were made for each other, in our fucked up need to see the other squirm as much as see him smile.

 

“I miss you, Seunghyun.” Jiyong ducked his head, short nails picking at the upholstery.

 

My unattractive snort of amused disbelief ricocheted against the towering, white walls of my apartment and he snapped his chin up to glare at me.

 

“That's rich.”

 

“I mean it,” he said, low enough so that I almost didn't hear.

 

“You'll have to forgive me for not believing you. Your track record is less than impressive.”

 

His eyes widened and I merely quirked one of my brows in request that he challenge me on this. I had years of evidence, there was no way he would win. And he knew that.

 

“What else am I supposed to say?” Jiyong was beginning to sound exasperated.

 

“I can think of a few things.”

 

“You aren't going to make this easy for me, are you.”

 

My mouth curved into a sad imitation of a smile and I slumped further into the counter, smile fading just as quickly as it had appeared.

 

“It was never going to be easy, Jiyong,” I murmured.

 

_It was never going to be easy._

 

The hardness in his eyes faltered as he stared at me, more of that fear pouring out through the warmth of his irises. I noticed the way his hand trembled when he placed it on the cushion and he rose to stand. He was running again. I rounded the counter, gliding across the floor to snatch his wrist before he could reach the elevator and backed him up against the wall. He didn't even gasp when I slid a thigh between his legs to pin him there, forearms framing his head as I leaned close. Jiyong's eyes were closed, features contorted in some version of anguish. The fact that he didn't fight it was a positive sign. Maybe he was done fighting. Maybe there was some truth to his declaration.

 

“Don't run, you always run. Even when you're standing still,” I whispered, dropping my act of indifference and letting my anxiety float to the surface.

 

Jiyong's chest heaved with a shaky intake of breath.

 

“I'm not running.”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

He turned his head to face me, eyelids lifting and taking the hardness with them until all that remained was overwhelming regret.

 

“I'm-” Jiyong started but couldn't finish, voice breaking.

 

I lowered a hand to brush my fingers through his hair and his eyelids fluttered as he swallowed another uneven breath, the exhale stuttering against my lips. He struggled to maintain eye-contact, but in the end forced himself not to turn away. My heart was attempting a second escape though I needed it here. I needed it to listen and to not fold. I thought I had finally run out of ways to hope, but Jiyong's steady gaze rekindled every ember and I dared to let them burn.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, delivering the two deceptively simple words with the thickness of his sorrow clinging to his vocal chords.

 

Cradling his cheek in my hand, I wondered if he had been looking for the opportunity to lead me here. To make me push back hard enough so that he would have no choice but to yield. Because we'd been here before. The only difference was that this script had been rewritten with an apology. One that I had been waiting for. Jiyong's fingers slid over my hand, the one holding his face, and he molded it more firmly to his skin.

 

“I'm sorry,” he murmured and my heart skipped, echoing the repetition.

 

“Then stay.”

 

I prayed that he was listening to the plea in my words for this to be the last time. For there to be no more steps in reverse. Jiyong's features crumpled and he tipped forward, pressing his lips to mine. There was a burst of something joyful inside of me because I had been deprived of this for too long. His kisses and his surrender to what we meant to each other. I collected him into the circle of my arms, moving against him with an urgency I had never felt. He hiccuped a soft sob into my mouth and I only clutched him tighter. We hung on to one another until it hurt. Until skin and bone became an obstacle to our merging. And still I wanted more. I guided him away from the wall, blindly directing us up the short flight of stairs that lead to the lofted bedroom.

 

Jiyong refused to relinquish contact for more than a few seconds, lips attaching themselves to my skin between every article of clothing that was removed and unceremoniously discarded on the floor. Hands and fingers were ruthless in their quest for heated flesh. My palms stroked over pebbled nipples and the solid steps of his ribs, tongue laving wet trails along Jiyong's neck. He moaned, the blunt tips of his nails biting into my back as we toppled onto the mattress. The curves of his body sunk into the dips of my own, his angles filling my hollows and valleys. A complimentary construction of marrow and soft tissue. He scraped his teeth over my jaw, rocking forward and fisting his fingers in my hair with a choked whimper. I bruised his hips with my thumbs, arching up off the bed to initiate more friction. More pressure. More all-encompassing bliss. Jiyong squeezed his thighs around me. He trembled and I sighed.

 

We abused each other with rough kisses. With harsh, groping touches and possessive scratches. This was not about gentle displays of affection or romantic gestures. It was messy and inelegant and raw. It was us, conveying the depth of our need for one other in the only ways that we knew how. I flipped Jiyong onto his back, his wrists clamped in one of my hands above his head while the other wrapped around the hard length of his cock. His mouth fell open, hips bucking wildly into my fist as I stroked him without mercy. The strangled noises of pleasure he made sent tingling bursts of desire straight to my center. Jiyong strained against my hold and I smothered his cries with hungry lips.

 

Fumbling for the bottle of lubrication under my bed, I uncapped it and drizzled the slick substance liberally over my fingers. The naked thirst in Jiyong's eyes as I stretched him open only served to make me less careful. Less tender and more ardent than I already was. He watched me, lids hooded, and undulated with a slow, wicked roll of his hips. I bent down to sink my teeth into the creamy flesh of his thigh as I crooked a finger inside of him, prodding cruelly at his prostate. Jiyong's broken sob was my reward and I withdrew, coating my erection with the excess and entering him swiftly and without ceremony. I groaned, thrusting forward and burying my face in the crook of his neck as I continued to move. The feeling of being this close to him again was beyond the ability of language. To feel his heart beat in his chest and his breath on my skin was to flirt with nirvana. He brought me to life with a single caress of his honeyed lips.

 

“Harder,” Jiyong panted hotly into the shell of my ear, taking the lobe in his mouth and teasing it with his tongue.

 

I growled, kissing him roughly. Raising up on my knees, I curled my fingers around his waist, smoothing my thumbs over his stomach. He lifted his arms above his head again, lithe body spread out before me like some wanton nymph, and my hips stuttered before I slammed into him. Jiyong's spine arced in a beautiful curve and I pounded him into the mattress until he came screaming my name.

 

He clung to me after that, still mewling in my ear as he rode out the fading ripples of his orgasm. Liquid grace and shivering thighs. With a sensuous lick to the sensitive skin of my neck, Jiyong nipped at my pulse point and I fell apart, moaning against his shoulder. We lay there in a sated sprawl until our racing hearts became less frantic and our muscles relearned how to move. I kissed the corner of his mouth and he smiled, nuzzling at my face as his fingers danced along my sides.

 

“I need you to tell me something,” I spoke quietly now that we had calmed, caressing the silken skin of his collarbones.

 

Jiyong's hand found mine, disrupting my lazy exploration and slotting our knuckles together.

 

“If I can, I will.”

 

I let his words hang, waiting for my voice to regain some of its strength. I wasn't sure how he would behave now, even though things had been said. Unspoken oaths taken.

 

“Why do you insist on keeping me at arms length?”

 

His chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. There was a tremor in his breath and I sensed his fingers shake as he slid them in and out of mine. Pushing and squeezing.

 

“Because I'm afraid to let you in. And I'm afraid that you-” Jiyong faltered, taking another deep breath. “That you won't love me, anymore. If I do.”

 

I clenched his fingers tightly to still them, bringing them to my lips.

 

“Nothing will stop me from loving you.”

 

Shifting under me, Jiyong turned on his side to look me in the eye. I kissed his knuckles from index finger to pinky and back again.

 

“I don't want to hurt you again, Seunghyun,” his voice was tight with emotion.

 

“You hurt me more by shutting me out.”

 

We stared at each other for a long time. The soft light from the main room downstairs made everything sort of hazy, bathed in blue shadow. I listened to Jiyong's inhale and exhale for several measures before speaking again.

 

“Do you love me?”

 

“Yes,” he responded without hesitation and I fought the familiar, painful throb of my heart.

 

“Then give me your shadows as well as your bright spaces.” I held his gaze, trying to communicate with more than just simple speech. “I want all of you. Not just what you think I want to see.”

 

Jiyong removed his hand from my grasp and cupped my cheeks. The dark circles of his irises glimmered in the haze and I knew that he was doing his best not to let the tears fall. He drew more ragged breath and leaned in to seal his lips sweetly to my lips. I tasted salt on his tongue.

 

“Promise me one thing,” he whispered, almost choking on the words.

 

“Anything,” I murmured, brushing wisps of hair from his forehead.

 

“Don't run.” Jiyong grinned, brows knotting as he bit down on his lip and sniffed.

 

“Never.”

 

Arm curling around his waist, I drew him into the warmth of my body and kissed the trails of salt from his skin.


End file.
